


Possible (31/39)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [31]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the hospital</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (31/39)

Ian spent two days in the hospital. By the time Mickey returned the next morning most of the Gallaghers were there, filling up Ian's room and half the waiting room as well. With all the people around, Mickey only had chance to spend a few minutes with Ian, who still seemed dozy and a bit out of it, barely recognizing him. 

Fiona and Debbie didn't look like they were moving from the chairs beside Ian's bed, so Mickey waited outside with Carl and Kevin, helping them corral Liam to keep him from running into strangers' rooms and nurses' stations. The doctor was supposed to come around soon to give them a report and update on Ian's condition, but after a couple of hours he still hadn't shown up, and the nurses said he'd been called away to various emergencies on another floor.

"Why don't you go home, Mickey?" Fiona said sympathetically, coming out of Ian's room. "You've been here all day. We'll let you know as soon as we hear something."

Mickey started to say that she'd been there longer than he had, but stopped himself. He'd already missed a morning of classes; maybe he should think about getting to school.

"All right," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll just let him know I'm leaving."

But Fiona stepped in front of him, put a hand on his arm. "He's sleeping now. Better not to disturb him. You can see him later on."

So Mickey left without seeing Ian again that afternoon. He went to his classes and then home, to his empty bedroom, for another night. No one called or left a message for him.

The next day he went to a couple of his morning classes, then to the hospital by noon. He arrived just in time; the doctor was rounding them up for a meeting in a small board room. Mickey followed the Gallaghers inside and went to stand by a window as the rest of them took places around the table.

The doctor read off a few medical statistics, the gist of which seemed to be that Ian was recovering well and wouldn't suffer any lasting damage.

"So when does he get out of here," Mickey broke in impatiently, his voice raspy from disuse.

The Gallaghers turned towards him, as though surprised to hear him speak, and then looked at the doctor.

"Tonight, probably," the doctor answered. "We just need to make sure everything is stable and all his dosages are adjusted correctly."

"So ... what happened, doc?" Lip asked, sounding somehow pointed. "What caused this reaction and how do we know it won't happen again?"

The doctor glanced at him. "Seizures are always a risk with the medication your brother is on. Bupropion in particular is known to elevate the risk."

"But the nurse at the clinic told me they'd been monitoring Ian for that," Fiona said, leaning forward across the table from the doctor. "She thought they had the combination right."

"It could be they did have it right," the doctor conceded. "But anything added to the regime can alter the likelihood of a reaction, of course."

"They added more?" Lip said sharply. "I thought they were supposed to let us know when they changed his meds."

"Not necessarily prescription medications," the doctor said. He looked down at the file in front of him and shuffled some paper around. "Stimulants can increase the risk as well. I understand the patient had been using cocaine."

To Mickey it almost seemed to happen in slow motion, the way all the Gallaghers switched their gazes toward him, the doctor looking studiously at his notes, Mickey's face growing hotter under the combined weight of their stares. "Just once ... " he began weakly. "I mean, he didn't -- "

"Apparently _once_ is all it took," Carl muttered. 

Lip turned back to the doctor. "So what you're saying, doc," he said, with barely concealed hostility, "Is that living with a professional coke dealer maybe isn't the best thing for Ian's health."

"Sh, Lip," Fiona said quickly, before Mickey could think of how to respond. "We all make mistakes. It's not like I'm one to talk."

For a second Mickey felt a wave of relief. Then Fiona went on, to Mickey this time, "I'm sure you did your best to keep it away from Ian, Mickey. But we all slip up now and again."

"It wasn't like that," Mickey began angrily. "He -- "

"No point arguing about it," Lip cut in. "Damage is done. Let's just be glad he doesn't seem to have any permanent brain damage. Yet."

Mickey shoved himself away from the wall and walked toward the boardroom door, his legs suddenly stiff and awkward. "I'mma go see Ian," he said shortly. "You can all keep bitchin' about me while I'm gone."

But Ian had dozed off by the time Mickey got to his room, and Mickey didn't have the heart to wake him. He couldn't stand to face the Gallaghers again either, so he asked the nurse what time discharges happened, and then figured he could make a couple more classes and come back in time to take Ian home.

***

The nurse had told him discharges were generally made around six o'clock, just before the evening shift change, so Mickey was back at the hospital by five-thirty. But when he got to Ian's room, it was empty.

Mickey stared around the room in disbelief and then strode over to the nurses' station.

"Oh yes," the nurse on duty said, glancing at her computer. "He's been discharged. His family asked us to let him go early, and everything was in order so the doctor agreed. They took him home about an hour ago."

" _Home_?" Mickey repeated, dazed. "But I -- oh." It occurred to him, suddenly, that the word could have multiple meanings. After a moment he went over to the payphones on the wall and called his own house. Svetlana answered and told him there was no sign of Ian there. Apparently the Gallaghers had substituted their own version of the word.

Mickey cursed inwardly and headed to the El stop, hopping the turnstile to get onto the platform. On the train he thought again about Ian and his siblings, and his own family, and where they all lived. What did _home_ mean to Ian, he wondered. 

At the stop nearest the Gallagher place, Mickey got out and half-jogged toward the house. But as he drew nearer, his pace slowed until he paused, lit a cigarette, and stood indecisively on the sidewalk. _Maybe Ian just needs some rest_ , he told himself. And then, slowly, he turned around and began the walk to his own house instead.


End file.
